#BGBG2

Find Your Pod, Tell Your Story

Sto-ry • noun: an account of incidents or events We can nurture ourselves through story—both by sharing our story and listening to other people’s stories. Find Your Pod, Tell Your Story The captain of the whale-watching tour ship called out over the loudspeakers, “Look to nine o’clock and you’ll see a bottlenose dolphin!” The passengers rushed to the port side and crowded eagerly around the railing. “Do you see it?” I asked one of my students. “Over dere,” he said,…

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Overlooking the Plain is Overlooking the Plan

A Plain Bird I spotted a bird sitting on the curb across from my house as I headed out the door for a run. Never one to miss a photo op with a bird, I ran back inside for my camera. I thought that perhaps the resident juvenile Cooper’s Hawk had dropped by for a visit. Focusing the lens, I called out to my youngest daughter. “Sarah!  It’s not my hawk, it’s a roadrunner!”  We took turns looking through the…

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Why I Failed to Raise my Kids

To Guide or to Raise, that is the Question I used to think that my husband and I would ‘raise’ our children. As if they had tender shoots and fragile roots and would produce a crop one day. We took a parenting class. I read books and prayed a lot. I learned to mean what I said, and not make threats I didn’t want to carry out. Parenting did not come easy for me. Raising kids required much more than…

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From Marathon to Puny in Three Months

My Puny Body I sucked in deep gulps of air, and kicked my foot out of my toe clips. Whew! That hill grew since the last time I rode up it, I thought. My gelatinous legs could barely support me as I dragged off my backpack and dug around for a protein bar. “Let’s go!” Pedro called out to the group of students in front of me, and they all took off down the trail. I continued to cram my…

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If Only God Would Speak

I realized that I haven’t explained the whole Five-Minute Friday thing at this blog for a long time. Every Thursday night, interested writers may log on to Twitter and search for the hashtag #fmfparty at around 6 PST. You may lurk, say hello, or just introduce yourself and the gang will strike up a conversation. About an hour after the party starts, our fearless leader, Kate Motaung, will announce the prompt for the week. Twitter falls silent as everyone rushes…

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Why Can’t I Find My Place at Church?

Finding My Place at the Five-Minute Friday Retreat I sniffed my pits before closing my car door and heading towards the place where we would register. I shrugged. Without facing the registration process, I wouldn’t receive a room key for the retreat. And until I had that room key in my hot and sweaty hand, I couldn’t shower. I’d have to go in smelling slightly ripe, covered in grime (birding is dirty business), and wild-haired. Once again, I found myself…

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Rug Burn, Aching Joints, and other Hazards of Play

How to Play with a Baby “What happened to your knee?” my daughter Laura asked. I glanced down and noticed a red, raw spot on my left knee. “Carpet burn, I guess,” I answered with a shrug. “Abel and I have been racing up and down the hallway.” “Oh, you poor thing!” “Naw,” I replied, “anything to hear his cackle!” Therein lies the truth. I’ll do anything to get a two-toothed grin, a chortle, or a cackle out of my…

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How to Rejoice in the Parched Places

The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Isaiah 35:1 Lessons from the Dry Land We moved from Bozeman, MT to Holbrook, AZ almost five years ago. I confess I still miss the snowstorms, the months of cold weather, and the luscious flowers in the spring and summer. Maybe the native Montanans call it God’s country because they, like I, always feel a little closer to God in the wide-open spaces and majestic…

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I Survived Hell’s Revenge (and Learned a Few Lessons Along the Way)

Headed to Hell’s Revenge “Let’s do Hell’s Revenge!” Pedro exclaimed when we finished eating lunch the first full day of our Moab vacation. “I’m in,” Louis, our son-in-law, said. Laura and I looked at each other and headed into the trailer with the dirty dishes. “Maybe we won’t have to go,” I said with a hopeful grin. “We could stay here and write or something,” Laura agreed. Neither one of us relished a tour of one of the most difficult…

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Why it’s Important to Encourage the Weak

Weak at Mile 11 I didn’t feel weak until about mile 11. At that point, I had run as far as my training had taken me last Sunday. The February drizzle and stiff wind had me feeling chilled. Although I only had 2.1 miles left to run, it looked like we’d have to run a long ways still to reach the Cardinal’s stadium. For the past two hours I had been running in my third half-marathon—only this time, I signed…

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